


They Speak

by DubiousPhysics



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Major Character Injury, Post-Volume 3 (RWBY), RWBY S03E11 Spoilers, rwby volume 3 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:19:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6165537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DubiousPhysics/pseuds/DubiousPhysics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake's done running from Adam. Adam's done toying with Blake. They're both long done with words. It's time for actions to speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Speak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lydia_rogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydia_rogue/gifts).



> I mentioned to a friend that I had fresh ideas for RWBY moments, as I tend to have, but I wasn't at all confident that I could explain them and do them justice. It bothered me enough that I decided to just give it a shot: write out one moment, throw in a couple of lines of context, that kind of thing. One all-nighter and 1,000+ words later...

When there are no words left, actions speak. Sometimes they speak with kindness. Sometimes they speak with tempered steel.

Under a smoke-stained sky, lit by fire and surrounded by chaos, two Faunus spoke. Flashes of black, white, and red danced back and forth, intertwined in a vicious maelstrom of pain and fury. Black and red, fuelled by anger, marked by scorn and betrayal, roaring forth in all his vengeful wrath. Black and white, crushed, broken by loss, the burden of a thousand failing hopes weighing down upon her, her determination to fulfill them driving her forward still.

There were no words left. Nothing was left to say. The only sounds that mattered were the gunfire, the clash of steel on steel, the cries of exertion and pain.

Wearily, Blake noted that the cries were all her own. Exertion and pain. There'd been no shortage of that today, and this final duel was pushing her far beyond her limits. But she couldn't afford limits, not now. Not with the man who stood before her, who without warning was suddenly beside her, whose blade was abruptly slipping past her guard and hurtling toward her.

The strike connected with the top of her skull, sending her flying despite her aura's best efforts to dampen the blow. With a deft handspring, she was back on her feet again, head pounding from the impact. Had her reflexes been a fraction slower, that would have been her neck, and everything would already be over.

There was no familiar smirk on Adam's face, no pause to savour Blake's suffering. The time for that was long past. He advanced on her with purpose, with unyielding hatred seething from his gaze. Her eyes answered in kind, a furious snarl escaping her as she surged towards him.

_You swore to destroy everything I loved. Did you forget that you already did?_

Onward they danced, sparks flying with each blow and parry, a lifetime of passion behind every step and misstep.

_Look at what you did to them. Everything I believed in. Everything I fought for. The White Fang. You. I believed in you!_

There was no going back now, no holding back now.

_I ran. I looked for a new life. I found new things to believe in. New people to fight for. To love._

Wilt closed in on her once again, the sword radiating bloodlust as Adam drove it through where Blake's heart would have been a mere moment ago. She let out yet another cry as it grazed painfully across her torso, her severely depleted aura straining to prevent it from drawing blood.

_Now you've taken that, too._

Blake herself was straining to push through the pain and retain focus. Sure, this hurt like the devil, but it was nothing compared to what she was about to do next. There was a reason she had chosen to take the hit, evading to the inside instead of stepping clear entirely.

_Now there's nothing left... but you._

There was a blur, and in the next instant she was pressed right up against her former mentor, so close he could have reached out and wrapped her in a loving embrace. But there would be no embracing. Not today. Not ever.

Dual blades flashed forwards, slicing past each other and across Adam's throat. The strike sent him reeling back, and Blake wasted no time angling Gambol Shroud and emptying an entire clip into his forehead, his aura shimmering with each deflected round. Another blur, and his retaliatory gunshot found only shadow.

Adam steadied himself with barely a blink, seemingly unfazed, but Blake knew him too well. She could read his surprise and confusion. This wasn't the Blake who had fought alongside him in the White Fang. Perhaps not even the Blake who'd confronted him at the Battle of Beacon. This Blake had been forced past every breaking point long ago, yet even here, even now, she still had plenty of her all left to give. It was almost as if she had nothing left to lose.

Perhaps he should have expected that part.

Blake's own poker face was in need of some work, grimacing as she felt her aura falter. Almost half, no, more than half of her body was throbbing from some impact or other, and that last glancing blow stung sharply. A quick glimpse downwards confirmed that her aura hadn't quite managed to stop the blade short of drawing blood. No chance she could take another one of those.

In that moment of distraction, Wilt arced towards her once more, faster than ever before. Blake was running on empty, and Adam knew it. There was no way he was going to pass up an opportunity like this.

And Blake knew it.

Adam's sword slashed through nothingness, the surprise finally reaching his face. In the blink of an eye, Gambol Shroud was on him again, dual blades coming dangerously close to tearing through his aura, Dust rounds finding their mark with deadly precision - a half dozen of Blake's...

...and one of his.

With a pained gasp, Blake stumbled back, aura collapsing around her. She recovered swiftly, just in time to stave off her opponent with the remainder of the magazine - but once her weapon clicked on an empty chamber, it was close quarters once more. Close quarters with no room for error. No room for her, at least.

She whirled, and Adam felt a sharp kick land just above his knee, sending staggering pain shooting through the leg, and buying Blake precious moments to clear his line of fire. In the next instant, they were face to face again, back to the old dance of steel on steel.

If Blake couldn't afford mistakes, then she would make no mistakes. Ignoring her body's protests, she summoned every last remaining fibre of her strength, her nimble form flowing to evade or parry strikes from every angle, pressing angles with strikes of her own, never giving her opponent the chance to line up a shot. Yet with every perfect move and countermove, she could feel that strength slipping away. Adam could sense it too, his attacks turning more direct, more forceful, aiming to cut through her defences rather than slip past them. Exhaustion was inevitable. One way or the other, this would end soon.

And it did.

A single, powerful sweep finally pried Gambol Shroud from trembling fingers.

Blake leapt backwards, the near lethal stroke tickling her throat like a gentle breeze.

Her blades clattered to the ground, somewhere to the right.

There was a pair of rapid gunshots.

Blake screamed.

Her world was enveloped in a haze of agony, an avalanche of pain that obliterated every mental block and wormed its way into every last corner and crevice of her being. Silently pleading for something, anything to take her away from the torment, her prayers were answered by a flash of gold, a memory somehow even more agonising than any physical sensation.

_Please, stop. Please._

She felt like the haze would never lift, and rightly so. Drowning in the pain, it was nigh impossible to make out anything in the world beyond. It seemed like an age before she could piece together that she was lying motionless on the ground, that both of her knees were shattered ruins, that Adam was standing over her, weapon raised, waiting patiently for her gaze to focus on him. He was going to kill her now, without question. He wanted her to see it coming.

She choked back tears. They weren't for him.

_She called me a coward._

There was that familiar smirk. It seemed Adam was allowing himself some luxuries at last.

_She was right._

He was saying something, impossible to make out with her battered and overwhelmed consciousness. Probably for the best.

_Just end it._

The sword came down, and Blake squeezed her eyes shut, that same flash of gold returning with the darkness. As painful as the memory was, she wanted it to be the last thing she saw. A memory with someone she cared about. Someone who cared about her.

There was the clang of steel on tempered steel.

Blake's eyes snapped open, and despite everything, a gasp escaped her lips. That last flash of gold had been no memory.

Gold and brown - and red, if you counted the fury burning in her eyes. It was an intensely unfamiliar, almost alien fury. Neither unbridled, nor defiant. It was controlled. Focused. Honed. _Dangerous._

She stood with one arm raised, gauntlet extended and battle ready, effortlessly holding back the full brunt of Adam's killing blow. The other arm was long gone, a thin black ribbon binding back the end of her right sleeve. If the handicap concerned her, she didn't show it, standing with the confident poise of someone who'd spent a lifetime preparing for one single moment.

Or, perhaps, someone determined to seek out one chance to take back something she'd never meant to say.

Yang Xiao Long opened her mouth and spoke.

"Like I said last time: get away from her. _Bitch._ "


End file.
